


jusqu'à l'extrémité

by tireswithspares



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tireswithspares/pseuds/tireswithspares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They longed for the freedom outside of their imprisonment. Eight years ago they escaped, scattered around the country some grew up in the care of kind families, others were forced to raise themselves. Each of them have a goal in mind. Nathan Prescott needs to find his father. Sean Prescott, the one who started it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	jusqu'à l'extrémité

**Author's Note:**

> This might be one of the first intense, more than one chapter fics that I've ever co-written with someone. Nearing 4k words which isn't that much compared to some other fics but @Abyssinthe and I worked really hard on this so let's hope that you guys enjoy reading this!!
> 
> I notice that some things can come off confusing so feel free to comment and ask us your questions!!
> 
> Words from @Abyssinthe: Thanks to Soph for letting me work with her amazing story!

_the start_

_**new york city, new york** _

_**10.7.13** _

_nathan prescott_

Thin, bony fingers brush over the crisp, flimsy pages of a new book. It’s a bulky novel detailing on the adventures of reckless teens and accidents and super powers - and all of that romantic bull, but it’s supposed to be a bestseller, and he can’t seem to _hate_ it.  He’s absorbed by it, no matter how cliche each chapter gets, and he doesn’t know why it’s that addicting. Hell, the main character was overly enthusiastic, way too kind, and incredibly naive for his taste, but he won’t admit that he enjoys the positivity she gives him, and he also won’t admit her words of optimism makes him calm, and gives him some sort of displaced hope he hardly ever musters up.

Nathan’s setting the book on his lap, deeply absorbed by the character that was now struggling over the Overlord’s mind control, and he hums an old lullaby that's even rarer for people to hear, let alone see him do as he reads her conquering him. Even if he doesn't remember the words to the song stuck in his head, he hums it as gently and kindly as ever - like the last time he had heard it, and in his mind, he can picture the protagonist running towards her friends to catch up with them, and his song ends.

As he flips through another page, he secretly eyes the man at the counter. He feels as if he’s overstayed his welcome at the bookstore, even when there were customers that had been reading books before him. Nathan swears he had felt eyes on him - stabbing the back of his neck relentlessly - a few seconds ago, but it could just be his imagination, and he has had quite the active imagination for some time now. But there is still a sense of discomfort that settles within him, and he can’t help but feel paranoid, so he stares at the man trying to see what’s upsetting him.

 The guy has dark brown eyes and wears thick framed glasses. He’s wearing a light sweater vest with a shabby jacket haphazardly strewn on him as if he had ran to work to catch up to the train last minute. He’s tall, and lean, and he has a smile that makes Nathan’s stomach curl. The man looks like someone vaguely familiar, someone from his past, and that fact by itself made Nathan want to leave immediately.

The man at the counter somehow manages to catch his glance, and Nathan tenses up - feeling his heart race wildly as he nervously smiles back. God, he wants to leave. He wants to hide, but Joyce was off to who knows where, and he definitely knows that he shouldn’t and doesn’t want to go anywhere without her.

His worry slowly triggers his right leg to bounce up and down with the paranoia flooding his nerves as every second passes and no Joyce shows up. The book carelessly closes, and he loses the page he was on, but he can’t seem to care anymore. The adventure, in his mind, was already over, and it wasn’t _that_ great of a book anyway.

He hates being left alone in crowded places like this - especially when...especially when he is the most vulnerable.

“See anything you like, kid?” A voice pops out of nowhere, cutting his streams of anxious thoughts to a halt, as the familiarity and warmth of the tone gets him relaxed. A tall woman was standing before him. She had her honey brown hair tied to a bun, and wore a simple white blouse, and pencil skirt that fell shortly before her knees. It was Joyce, and he was so happy to see her - the smile she cast down on him was a soft sort of fondness, and her eyes shone with a motherly gentleness.

“No...” he mumbles, before getting up to his feet quickly. He softly thumbs the book’s cover and contemplates on its title. _The Last Adventure_ , what a stupid name, he thinks to himself, and sets it back on the self where he found it. “Where’d you go?”

Joyce lets out a grin, and she holds a bag up, opening it to show him what she got. He knows which one is his by the color -  whenever she would buy things for him it would always be red. “I just went through Macy’s to find us new jackets, and then I saw us, more importantly, you on the news,” She says causally, closing the bag back up - the smile was now overshadowed by a slight frown.

Joyce Price was a pretty woman. A very serious and witty one too. She always stands up straight. She dresses nice, “professional” as she calls it; everything she wears casually could be taken as formal. She’s prepared for nice occasions, hides a dress in the back of her car as well as a suit just for him, and she even has “emergency” toothpastes, toothbrushes, sewing kits, and perfume that “could hide all the flaws from mankind” as she likes to say.

She used to work as a scientist, now she’s an entrepreneur. She had also taken him under her wing eight years ago; she adopted him legally after the first four years.

“You know...I didn’t need a new jacket” Nathan pulls his own closer to him. He grips on the sleeve, and he can feel how thin it’s getting. “This one works just fine,” he lies.

Joyce shakes her head, “That jacket is getting old, Nathan, it’s going to fall apart soon with the way you wear it.”

He purses his lips and pouts to himself. He couldn’t exactly argue with her, and it was pretty much pointless to cause a half-hearted scene in a place that had just broadcasted his face on television, but nevertheless, he’s had this jacket since he was ten - when it was impossibly big, but now it fits him well! It was good, it was still wearable.. But, maybe the jacket fit him even too well.

She smiles at him and pats his shoulders softly. It was ironic for him to assume she was reading his own thoughts. "Anyway, we should get going," she points to her watch, "because I've got something to attend,"

He closes his hands into fists, he frowns thinly at the ground, “You mean the thing that I can’t go to?” he asks only slightly pissed off. He can feel his throat drying up, and he desperately tries not to make any sign of hurt, but he gulps, and he knows she can see his sadness, and he curses to himself.

“Yes, it’s the one you can’t go to because of that _incident_ ,” she sighs, “I’m not going to be gone that long, Nathan.”

“...It’s not like _I_ killed anyone,” Nathan mumbles looking up at her then away at his feet. He could feel his heart drop, and he hates staying away from her. He hates being left alone for too long.

“You didn’t _but_ ,” the stern look comes on her face “ten had to go to the E.R. and two are still in critical condition-”

“But, I didn’t do _it_ -”

“I know, I know.” Joyce lets out a sigh, and she wants to touch his cheek, or give him a tight hug, but she knows - he’s not ready for that intimacy...he has never been. “But, everyone thinks you did - that’s the main thing.” She shakes her head, and all she can offer him is a smile.

“But Joyce-”

She shushes him. “Enough Nathan,” she eyes the man working, thankfully he is oblivious to their conversation, she puts an arm around her adopted son, guiding him out the door.

“I’m not dangerous Joyce, I promise I can handle myself,” he swears to her.

She firmly shakes her head. “I know you aren’t, and I trust you full well, but I can’t afford to lose this offer or you,”

“Whatever...” he sighs, and stuffs his hand into his pockets. He’s slouching now, and he knows Joyce hates when he slouches even when she doesn’t say it herself, but she should at least know now that he was _showing_ himself disappointed. But, his stomach grumbles, and he winces. “Can we go and eat something?”

“You can get something at the food court,” she lets out a laugh. It’s funny to see such a brooding young man transition to his awkward-teen ways. She’s heading towards her car, but he stops her by a gentle call of her name.

“But I don’t have money,” He says sheepishly, “Books are expensive, okay?” She looks at him with a laugh, and she notices a paper bag hanging loosely in one of his grips. It was yet another rare sight to see Nathan with a shopping bag, and it makes her smile. At least, for a little while, he can be a normal teen.

“Don’t max out my card,” She warns as she hands over her wallet.

“But you have like ten, though,” He takes it in his hand and shoves it in the right inside pocket of his jacket. She waves him off as she goes to her car, and he walks to the escalator - quietly, and as quickly as possible.

The Food Court isn’t too far away, and he’s already figured out where he wants to eat, and what number combo he should order, and where to exit. He’s already looking at the lines that are forming in every food counter, and he’s making sure which one has the fastest ordering system - which one has the shortest line  - he’s made a memory of the positions of officers and cameras too.

Nathan figures out it’s best to plan things ahead for right now, to make a quick getaway if anyone notices him. He hopes no one does, though. He hopes no one has seen the broadcast yet, at least. He takes in the numerous exits that are in his peripheral vision, and as he scans at his environment, he takes an interest in the people at the mall.

He glances down over the edge of the glass, staring at the bustling people below him.

It’s odd to feel this way. He knows it’s not really right, but he thinks how lucky they are, and what a normal life must feel like? He can’t **remember** when was the last time he felt **human** \- it was  ironic to say the least.

He hates himself whenever a hideous feeling surges inside him, and it happens as he watches the careless passersby enjoy life as it comes. It’s annoying, and he’s selfish, but he hates it when people are happier than him. He hates it when they don’t know what’s going on; he hates his situation, and he wishes...almost wishes something bad would happen - to see those faces see the terror he has to face everyday - how amazing would it be for them to experience that? **It would be a spectacle.** But no...he wasn’t like that. He wasn’t _like them_.

He turns his attention back to where he’s headed and slowly steps off the escalator. It is far better to be secretly different in a sea of average people, than to be outwardly recognizable, at least. Even though that wasn’t really playing well with him, right now. At least, not a lot of people could tell there was some bad history that held him by the neck. At least he could pretend.

And then it happens. As soon as he takes his first step towards the restaurant chains,  Nathan hears the gunshots in rapid succession. The bullets come from the level above him, and immediately, as if by instinct, he pushes through the people careful with not touching any of them. He avoids the last of the people as he comes up from the steps of the escalator. Nathan takes a deep slow breath and slowly begins walking toward the man.

“Who the hell are you?!”

He lifts his hands up in the air and slowly comes to a stop. His sudden halt of movement seems to freak the man out, but if he could quickly access his thoughts - he wouldn’t be as vulnerable as he let himself appear.  Nathan silences his thoughts and begins to focus in closely. He doesn’t even allow himself to think. Not even a little. He watches the man’s expression grow even more confused. Nathan taps in connecting a link between their minds

Whenever he enters another person’s mind, it never fails to drain him. It’s a sluggish, dark feeling as if all the energy inside him is leaking out - spilling, _bleeding_. It’s like there are cuts all over his body, and he can’t see them, but, fucking hell, do they **sting**.  And while his body shivers, and he feels the pain echoing like a million splinters, it’s like another thousand lightning bolts electrifying his veins - running to his brain, jumping, and splitting his mind to make more room for another person.

It’s **painful** , and he hates it, he hates it so much. It’s a **punishment**. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he was given it...he was made to do it.

Nathan grimaces as a flood of information enters him. The shooter’s name is Michael, he’s a recent divorcee, but a pretty well-to-do businessman. He loves his wife, but, apparently, an act of infidelity on her part got her to file divorce as an act of guilt. He’s devastated now. Nathan rolls his eyes.

_I loved her, I still do! And I know she loves me, too! I’ve given her everything she’s ever wanted - I fed her, I housed her, I gave her my love - I gave her my money, my undivided attention. So, why…? WHY? It was supposed to be our 3rd anniversary - that BITCH. **Where is he? I’m going to kill that sonuvabitch** \-- I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way... **starting off with this freaky kid.**  
_

Nathan’s eyes widen at the alarming thought, and his connection with the man fades quickly. The thought catches him off guard to the point it breaks his focus like shattered glass, and before he can react, the man’s already close to him with the gun pointed at his forehead and empty eyes ready to do the deed. Nathan curses to himself - how the hell did he let his guard down so easily? How the fuck was he going to live? His heart beats without an even rhythm, and, for once, he doesn’t do anything to protect himself. He was going to die, he felt it.

Death was so close, and the man’s finger was slowly moving to press the trigger.

Nathan shut his eyes tightly awaiting his fate. He guesses this isn't so bad. He didn’t really have much of a life, so whatever happens - at least he wasn’t going to trudge down his future empty-handed. At least he could escape all of that pain, and maybe be known as some tragic, brave soul caught in some unstable man’s ire - he could live with it, he decides, and mentally shrugs away any feelings of guilt or regret. _Sorry, Joyce_. He thinks to himself. Not even her kindness could save him. He let’s out a deep breath, sucking in as much air as he can, to feel his lungs one last time tell him at least it was all going to be over.

_Just end me now, you asshole._ Nathan thinks to himself, but before he could feel anything he hears screaming voices and breaking glass.

He opens his eyes immediately.

An extreme, heavy, brutal force strikes the man to the ground and Nathan immediately backs away, and he catches who it was that may have saved his poor life.

Chloe Price. _Amazing._

He blinks once and then twice. He wasn’t expecting this at all. The girl he met as a small child sitting next to him in line for the next experiment was standing straight and tall beside him with a wild grin stretched on her face. Her once pale hair has been colored a bright blue, but she is the splitting image of Joyce, her mother. He looks past her and catches the eyes of another character. Max Caulfield, in all her glory. Of course she looks the same, he expected as much.

“Woah there, I didn’t think I’d knock him into next week with that wimpy punch,” Chloe laughs a little too merrily and bends over to look at her work. She’s looking at the man with a look of pride, and she’s going through his jacket to see if there’s anything she can pickpocket. How extremely like her, Nathan likes to think. “Oh and you should be on the ground thanking me Nathan Prescott, or I guess you’re like my brother now - fucking gross,” she adds nonchalantly, and stands up with a small turn of her heel after properly checking the unconscious man’s suit and putting something inside her pocket. Nathan shook his head in disgust.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes at the sight of the woman, but the sudden thought of his death quickly dissipated and was replaced with confusion.

“Yeah right,” Nathan grimaces at the thought of thanking her - he already felt too in debt with the Price family, his own pride couldn’t shrink anymore - especially when it was with Chloe. “I rather let that bitch kill me than have to thank you.” His voice went dark, and a small smug grin crept onto his face as he watched both girls stare at him with deep frowns. A part of him regrets saying it, as soon as he sees Max’s more upset stare.

It is an odd reunion, and he shouldn’t have gotten so morbid, but he didn’t want to take back his words either.

Chloe reaches a fist out like she was going to wind back and punch him - as if he would be _grateful_ to her, he certainly didn’t ask for her goddamn help, and in the corner of his eyes he can see Max shifting prepared to pull the girl back, but then she suddenly withdraws. “I ‘ought to punch you for that, but one: that would be a stern lecture from my mom to me and, two: you’d get into my mind or something, so fuck that.” She hisses.

“Ugh whatever,” he runs his hand through his hair, brushing away the loose strands. He doesn’t bother to mention that he doesn’t need physical touch to instigate a mind link, not anymore - _unfuckingfortunately_.  “What are you even doing here?” He changes the subject swiftly with irritation creeping in his tone. “I thought you were in Chicago going to school like Joyce wants you to be,” He then glances over at Max a little too briefly, “And aren't you supposed to be in Oregon or something?”

The silence only lasts for a few seconds, but Nathan hates it anyway. Chloe was about to say something giving the fact her mouth was hanging open - probably to shittalk him, but he ignores her, and locks eyes with Max, he stares at her for the longest time now, and raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Utah,” she corrects him, “Joyce invited us over here to stay for the week, we didn’t come on a whim.” She smiled a little and shifted her weight in discomfort.  It was somehow always awkward whenever they spoke to each other, so he just looks away.

“Right.” He mutters. Of course she didn’t really come with Chloe to see him on her own selfish wants. He hears police sirens and sighs, “Joyce is going to have a few things to say after this...”

“Oh, shut up--” It was Chloe’s turn to roll her eyes, “I was saving your life if you haven’t noticed.”

“I didn’t ask--”

“Hey, guys, how about we just leave before anything else happens?” Max cuts the argument quickly and begins walking briskly past them. The two realize that there would be patrol coming soon, so they immediately shut up and look away in frustration and embarrassment. Chloe shrugs and follows after while Nathan trudges behind. No one ever really argued with Max’s judgment or decisions.

While they hurriedly passed through the mall as fast as they could - Nathan’s eyes survey the area as he walks and he finds himself staring at the ceiling of the place. White and clean. Bright. It stings. He blinks his eyes shut so fast as he feels a headache coming.

His eyes flutter open from underneath his thin eyelids. He only sees the white of the ceiling, there is only silence. He hears the door open and shut and he tilts his head to face the intruder.

“You’re awake...” It’s a girl his age, long brown hair and bright hazel eyes. She smiles sweetly and pulls a chair over next to him.

He furrows his brows confused, “What happened?”

“They cut your head open,” she says slowly, her eyes never leave his. He quickly begins to sit up, she reaches out to stop him but then pulls her hands away before she touches him, “You have to be careful now,”

“Why?” he balances himself on his elbows, before he lies down again.

She glances at the door before she leans her head next to his ear, “That’s what they told me to tell you,” she gestures for him to go quiet and he nods.

A man walks in through the door, shutting it behind him. “Ah, looks like you’ve finally awaken.” he glances over and nods, “Rachel.”

She glances at him one last time before she exits out. The man sat down, “Nathan,” he voice is quiet and he smiles, but not the way the girl did. It made him shiver out of a deep rooted fear, he doesn't feel safe, and he doesn’t even know why. “You are a  masterpiece,”

“Masterpiece? What-”

The man’s glare silences him immediately, clearing his throat he continues,, “As I was saying, you are a masterpiece. Because of our success with you we can control everyone on this wretched earth. You shall become our tool to success, and of course, how fitting it be that it is a descendant from the Prescott family.” He chuckles menacingly, “A shame the eldest child missed her opportunity.”

Nathan blinks at the mention of his sister, “Kris?” he whispers hopefully, “Opportunity?”

The man sighs frustratedly at the boy’s curious and hopeful response, “Of course I had to bring her up-”

There is a sharp knock at the door and slowly it opens up, it’s the girl once more. His voice starts furious, “Rachel? What did I tell you?! You-”

“Mr. Prescott sent me.” Her voice cuts his sharply and Nathan is surprised at the strength inside of her voice, she has courage in it. “He wants to see you immediately in his office.”

The man stands up after being silenced by the girl, “I suppose this session is going to be cut a little short, Nathan. Remember, I’ll be speaking to you tomorrow.” He smiles thinly and turns to walk toward the door, his eyes glance at the girl one last time, “Rachel.” he says sternly before he finally walks out, shutting the door behind him.

She sits right back in the chair she was in. There is silence but for some reason he doesn't mind it.


End file.
